


Why He Couldn’t Fall

by ZChan



Series: To be Insane [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, Emotional Support, Fluff, Gen, Lots of tears, Suicidal Attempts, Suicidal Thoughts, Tim needs a hug, Viewer discretion is advised advised, dog therapy, especially me, i can’t do it, men have feelings, no one wants Tim to die, press h to give Tim a hug, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 07:39:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15814440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZChan/pseuds/ZChan
Summary: After Tim’s suicide attempt, his family individually confronts him for it, wanting to know what’s wrong. As well, Tim recollects all the importing moments leading to this so that he can give his family a straight answer.





	1. If You Need Anything

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the lack of details. I’m used to using pictures to do that for me.

**THINGS I SHOULD DO BEFORE I DIE**   
1\. ~~Make sure my family is fine without me.~~   
2\. ~~Make sure Young Justice will be fine without me~~   
3\. ~~Tell all my brothers that I love them~~ ( Can’t talk to Jason)   
4\. ~~Finish the Sherlock Holmes series~~   
5\. Do something I’ve always wanted but couldn’t.   


* * *

  
The moon was full that night. It was the only thing illuminating Tim’s room. He stared at the wall with wide eyes, entirely giving up on trying to go to sleep. As he tries to drift to bed, all he could see was his near encounter with death, everything that lead to that moment, and the sorrow he caused. If he didn’t open his eyes to be awake, his tears would do it for him.   
So he lied, there, occasionally picking on the cast on his wrist with his fingernails  and watching the moon set over his head.

Before someone came in. “Hey, buddy.” Specifically Dick.

Dick helped himself to the chair by Tim’s bed before saying, “I found this.” Dick held up a piece of paper that Tim refused to look at. He knew what it was.

The list...

He didn’t think about hiding it, but, thinking back, that would be a dead give away, not that' the self established slash on his wrist didn’t give a hint.

“You still need to do something you’ve always wanted to do, right?” He could hear his voice cracking, trying to fight back the tears. “Why so early?”

Tim shrugged.

“You can talk to me. You can tell me anything. You know that.”

He said nothing.

“Why are you doing this?”

Nothing.

“I’ll never be okay with this. I don’t care you who go to console me about it. This won’t be okay. To this day I’m guilty about Jason. I felt like I should’ve been there, you know? Like I should’ve known that he’d be there, and I could’ve stopped him before it happened. Now I can to get to the bottom of _this_ , and I can’t even get you to look at me. If I leave this room and you died...” he stopped, taking a deep shaky breath. “Is this for attention? Is that what you want?”

Finally, Tim turned his head to give him a disgusted scowl. “Why the hell would I—?”

“ _What else am I supposed to think, Tim!?_ ” He shouted suddenly. It even made him flinch. “You’re Tim flipping Drake for god's sake! You’re a strong, resilient person. You’re smart and headstrong. You don’t let anything stop you from doing what you want. You’re an amazing leader and detective and fighter and hero and just—you-you’re the best of all of us; we all know it!

”Why do you want to die? I mean, it’s not easy, but this is not worth dying for. You can just stop! You don’t have to die! You shouldn’t _want_ to die. This wasn’t supposed to happen to you...” he trailed off into sobs. 

He held and tugged Tim’s arm towards him until Tim took the hint to lean into a hug. Dick held him tightly on his chest, pushing his fingers into Tim’s locks to make sure he doesn’t leave. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

Tim embraced his brother and nuzzled into his warm chest as he cried. “It’s okay.”

They let the air grow calm, resigning in each other’s heat until Dick was ready to try this again.

“I feel so helpless right now.” He sniffled. “Usually, I can send anything hurting you to jail. Now all I can do is use my quick wit and charm to convince you not to hurt yourself.” Then he chuckled at his own joke. He knew it wasn’t the right time for any of his one-liners, but he didn’t know what else to do. That's all he knew how to do when facing his problems. Dick sighed. “I know dying is part of the job and all, but I’m never really ready for it. I’d hate for you to go most of all, you know.” Smirking, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell anyone...but you’re my favorite...”

Smiling, Tim rolled his eyes.

“Really! You were so enthusiastic and friendly and adorable! It was fun training with you! You were just this innocent little munchkin that wanted to fight crime with Batman and make him feel better! Everyone else was a _jerk_.” His chuckles mixed with his cries and Tim couldn’t tell them apart. 

“I remember when you couldn’t do a split to save your life, and how excited you were to get to wear the costume for the first time, and how you always used to want to ride on the Bat-mobile with me when we go out on patrols in Bludhaven, and you always tried to sneak up on me, but you couldn’t, and then we’d go out for ice cream before the stores closed. And then you wanted to be more independent, so you built your own team all by yourself, but you still asked for help here and there anyway. And no matter what happened to you, you always stayed true to being a good person. And before I knew it, you were all grown up. I was always so proud of you. I still am...we all are...”

Tim said nothing and let his tears soak Dick’s shirt. 

”If you can't tell me, at least tell someone. You don't have to go through this alone, okay buddy?”


	2. Stop Being a Jackass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim thinks abou how this all started while Jason wants to undrstsnd why Tim wants to die

He thinks it all started when he was standing on a tall building, looking down and thinking about falling.

It’s natural to have an urge to lean over and fall when looking down somewhere high, but it was more like a desire to fall. Maybe not use his grappling hook this time. Just fall and die.

Bruce will miss him, but if being with Dick and Jason taught him anything, he’s replaceable. He’s nothing special, he doesn’t think, as a Robin, son, or brother. So it shouldn’t be long before everyone will get over it.

Plus he can be with his parents in a way.

His friends must get annoyed with how bossy he is. It won’t take them long to get over his death either.

He didn’t have to study anymore if he’s dead. He could sleep for as long as he wanted. He didn’t have to worry about his scarred body anymore. Or deal with Damian and Jason. Or anybody. It could all be over for eternity if he just died.

On the side of the top of the building, he looked down, cars and people looking like ants from where he was. He gingerly extended his foot to the open air, towards free fall. The next step was the push. How the scenario would work out played again and again in his head each second that went by as he stood there; the free fall, the people below growing bigger and bigger, the pavement growing closer and closer, until he landed face first into darkness. He might hit a car instead to break his fall. Or maybe slam himself on to a pedestrian. Or hit a street lamp. All those possibilities played out in his head as leaned farther and farther off the building.

Then he fell.

He’s been in free fall more than once. The wind pounding in his ears and rustling through his hair, the adrenaline chasing through his blood was familiar to him. It was like riding a roller coaster without any chairs. He looked behind him at his reflection off of the millions of windows he zoomed passed. His mask stood up wildly, fluttering along with his black and gold cape and red arms. He pushed his mask down to see his face, letting his locks free to be with the wind. He didn’t look scared or sad, or anything. He was as blank as a robot.

Then he laughed at himself.

He was playing chicken the pavement. He was going to see how long it would take before he reached for his grappling gun, fearing for his life as he naturally should. But before that, the moment was calming. He felt at peace, almost accepting the bad outcome of this stunt.

Almost.

Will this hurt? If it did, then it would hurt like hell wouldn’t it? Plus there were some things he needed to say to his friends and family before he left. What if they don’t know how much he loved them, or if there was something they needed to know to inspire them. There are some things he wanted to do before he died, some things he NEEDED to do, like return a library book or something.

Maybe he shouldn’t...

He shot his grappling gun at a nearby tower, hooking it ongargoyle, then swinging to the next building to run home.

 

* * *

 

 

“Stop looking like that. It’s pissing me off.”

He would think that was Damian, but his voice was deeper, so that was Jason no doubt. “Like what?”

“Like you’re helpless. You have a backbone, use it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sorry?”

“Is that all you have to say about all this? ‘Sorry?’”

“I don’t know—”

“You don’t know? Whadduya mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know what to tell you—“

“Yeah, you don’t know, do you? Cause all you’re gonna tell me is that you’re being a _jackass!_ I’m not one to talk, but you don’t come back once you die, you know that right?”

“I know.”

“Whatever you’re trying to get away from will stop eventually. You can’t take this back. Once you’re a dead, you’re dead!”

 _“I know_ , Jason!”

“So you know all this is pointless, and you should just stop it, right? _So stop it!_ ”

“Stop yelling at me!”

“ _Make me stop yelling at you!_ Or are you just gonna lay there like a pathetic loser and take it?”

“If you’re just going to be a prick, _just go away!_ ”

“ _I’m your freaking older brother!_ I can be as much as prick as I damn well please if you’re going to pull this crap! I’m supposed to...I didn’t get...” Jason fell silent. “Shit...” Then Tim felt the bed wobble from Jason’s impact. “ _Dammit!_ ”

He finally decided to slowly turn his body towards Jason, who had his face buried in the bed sheets, hands clutching his dark hair while the heels of his boots repeatedly bounced off the floor. Tim gently reached to touch his hair, ruffled and spiked, to eventually hold his gloved hand.

“Do you mean that? About being my brother?”

He made a large sniffle before he brought his red eyes up from the covers. “Don’t read too much into it. That’s just the law.”

Tim smiled. “Aw. I love ya too, Jason.”

He tried to smile back, but his lips quivered into a frown. “I love you too. I want to make sure you know that. I always did, I just...” He held his brother’s hand tighter as he watched him cry. “I’m sorry...”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“No. I mean I’m sorry for not being good to you.”

 _‘Not being good’ is an understatement,_ Tim held back from saying out loud.

“I should’ve been...oh Goddammit, I’m not good at these.” He wiped his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in one motion with his finger and thumb, then snorted in the last of his feelings. With a mischievous smile, he said, “Stop dying, alright? It’s bad for your health.”

Tim didn’t want to laugh at that bad joke, but it tried to sneak itself out of the corners of his lips.

“Take if from me. It sucks. You get stuck in a monkey suit in a hot coffin buried six feet under with no lights as you count down the seconds before earthworms dig inside to eat your eyes out. And you share dirt space with the ghost of this chick who died because she choked on some Milk Duds while watching Family Matters and just won’t shut up about her lost collection of foreign coins that got sent to her grandson who’s gonna spend it all on Jolly Ranchers or something.

“And all you want to do is sit in your hot ass satin layered coffin in your hot ass suit wishing you told somebody to put ' _Nothing is set in stone_ ' on your tombstone while playing _I’m Alive_ by Becca during your funeral before you died. And then _Thriller_ by Michael Jackson when you come back. You know, and you’d do the dance and whatever and make a thing out of it. And then you look like a walking used tampon for a few years before you look like a gritty Power Ranger in a biker gang going to see Eval Caneval. And then you shoot a Jim Crow wannabe a few times, rob banks to piss off your dad, eat a burger and go to sleep on Mr. Bed. It’s not all that big of a deal to be honest.”

Somewhere in the middle of his rant, Tim couldn’t resist laughing any longer and couldn’t stop from there. The sound warmed Jason’s chest.

“Now that I lightened the mood, awkward question time. What’s wrong, dude?”

Tim’s smile faded to a default expression. Then he stared at his feet under the covers.

“It’s these nut jobs, isn’t it?” He said under his breath while jabbing his thumb towards the door behind him. “Believe me, I get it. They drove me to hell too.”

Tim tried not to grin as he shook his head.

“If you don’t want to tell me that’s fine. Just, you know...” He rubbed just below Tim’s knuckles with his thumb, thinking. “People will miss you if you leave. Even Bruce. And if he goes apeshit about it, and you’re not there, I dunno, man...” he sighed. “I dunno...”

Jason could feel him shaking under his grip. Then he noticed the tears, bubbling in the corners of his eyes. An unfamiliar adrenaline rush made him pull Tim into a hug, whispering positive affirmations of the future. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay...its okay...”

 

* * *

 

 

He currently lived in Young Justice HQ with his teammates until they’re ready to take their place in their respective positions in the Justice League.  They were great friends to have and battle with. He couldn’t ask for a better group. Walking inside, he wondered how they would respond to his death. They’d be sad of course, but all in all, it’s another day on the job. They all joined this group accepting death in each other and others within the group. Then again, there’s a difference between dying on the job and dying voluntarily. He should think of a way to die that makes it look like an accident, so they wouldn’t feel bad or something.

His thoughts were interrupted by Conner, greeting him in the living room. “Hey, Tim!”

Bart popped his head out of the couch soon after with a bunch of fries stuffed in his joyful mouth. He waved at Tim, with enthusiasm in each swing.

Tim greeted back and took himself to his room to make a list of things he should do before he died. Well, if he decided to die that is. This will pass with time after all. But just in case it didn’t, or if an accident happened, it’s still good to have.

As he grabbed a piece of paper and pen off his desk, he felt a pinch of excitement going through him as he planned this out.

His pen scratched against the paper on his desk, the desk lamp illuminating everything he wrote in a warm light.

~

**THINGS I SHOULD DO BEFORE I DIE**

 

> 1\. Make sure my family is fine without me.
> 
> 2\. Make sure Young Justice will be fine without me
> 
> 3\. Tell all my brothers that I love them
> 
> 4\. Finish the Sherlock Holmes series
> 
> 5\. Do something I’ve always wanted but couldn’t.

~

 _Solid_ , he thought to himself. He nodded at the list and folded it for later. _Why am I doing this?_ He thought next. Dying was just a small pipe dream he’d never actually do. It’s not like he had the guts to, so why let the idea settle?

As he went to sleep, he thought of some other ways he could die.

He could hang himself with some rope and a ceiling fan.

He could also slit an artery on his arm and bleed to death.

He could jump from this tower again. It’s the easiest way to call it an accident.

The scenes played in his head again and again. The more he thought about them, the stronger the urges became.

 

 


	3. Help If You Want It

When Jason died, Bruce became a hot mess of chaos and destruction. It was the only reason Tim insisted on being his Robin...and eventually his son. Not that Bruce doesn’t know the right thing to do. He just needed someone to remind him what the right thing was. His immediate family won’t put in the effort, that with Dick wanting space, Jason striving to be the epitome of everything against what Batman stands for and Damian inevitably going to become a spawn of Satan. So he needed someone who will keep him down the right path, keep his spirits up when all hope was lost.

And who’s better for the job than the symbol of hope himself?

He scheduled a meeting with Superman on the rooftops of Wayne Enterprises™ at night. Tim waited, but not long, for the man faster than a speeding bullet. His smile lit up the night as he descended from the sky to where he was. He remembered first seeing him and being overwhelmed with his tall and buff he was. Now it’s a comforting sight compared to the humongous enemies he faced.

“Hello, Red Robin!”

Tim brought up his hand. “Hi, Superman.”

“You wanted to tell, me something?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I want to ask you...you know, if anything happens to me or anyone else or if he gets really hurt, to make sure Bruce is okay. No matter what happens, or how he acts, he has a friend who can keep him in check. It’s a lot to ask, and kind of out of the blue but....” Tim trailed off after picking up some of Superman’s soft chuckles.

Superman beamed brightly, almost laughing. “I’m sorry. It’s just Bruce asked me to do the same for you guys, just in case he’s gone. You all really care for each other don’t you?” He nodded. “It would be an honor and a pleasure, Red Robin.”

Tim smiled. “Thanks, Superman.”

Clark fluffed Tim’s hair before he flew away into the sunset. “Stay out of trouble!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you still want to die?”

He knew that voice. Stern, demanding, intimidating. “No.”

“Are you being honest with me?”

After a moment of thinking, Tim honestly said, “No.”

Bruce sighed before he sat on the bed with his back turned to him. “Will you tell me why?”

In a way he knew his reasons. Death meant he didn’t have to work as hard as he did on everything anymore. He didn’t have to feel stress or this overwhelming amount of sadness. It meant an eternity of feeling nothing. It could also mean he was getting too lazy to live. And Bruce didn’t need to know that part.

“We want to help you, Tim. You need to tell us what’s wrong before we can get there. I can’t read your mind.”

After a moment, Tim replied, “I want to sleep.”

“Okay.” Was all Bruce could say. After letting the answer settle, Bruce continued. “We’ve all been talking and we believe the best course of action for you would be to send you to the hospital. For in-patient therapy.”

He felt a lump in his throat hearing that word: Therapy. Not too long ago, he was the one calling out sickos for being the bane of existence, and look at him now, told he needed to go to the psych ward. He really was as pathetic as Jason said.

“But I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, so I‘m asking you first.”

“I don’t want to go.”

He could feel Bruce’s tension at the answer. “Are you sure?”

“I just want to sleep.” He knew he should elaborate on the many forms of sleep he wanted, but he couldn’t. Not after everything he tried to prove to Batman, to everyone.

“Okay. But if you do this again, that won’t be a question.”

Fair enough. “Alright.”

“Sleep well.” His heels clicked on the wooden floor as he left. The door creaked open but didn’t close as of yet. “Good night, Tim.”

 

* * *

 

Voices rapidly scattered throughout the hallways, faster than he can keep up with. Each voice was indistinguishable to the other, only comprehensible from what context Tim can gather.

“That’s it? So we’re just gonna let him sit there now?”

“He doesn’t want to go—“

“I don’t care what he wants to do! He _wants_ to die! What part of that do you not understand?”

“We’re not doing him any favors forcing him.”

“Good point, Bruce! We _shouldn’t_ make someone who wants to die _stop_ wanting to die if he ‘ _doesn’t want to!’_ That makes sense!”

”Thats not what I meant!”

“ _I know!_ How about I leave a loaded gun under his pillow tonight? Put a little pink bow on top of it and a cute card on the side that says ‘See you in hell  <3’. A little plesant surprise for him in the morning if he ever wants to jump off a building again! I think he’d like that too, dont you think?”

“I understand where you’re coming from, Jay, but he has a point. Therapy doesn’t work if you don't put in the effort.”

“That’s a load of bull, and you know it! He just didn’t rob a bank or something is all.”

“Stop it.”

“All anyone has to do is _think_ about stealing a purse to get thrown in Arkham Asylum around here. But apparently, someone cutting his own wrist off is in pitch-perfect health as long as he’s sane enough to decide if he wants the help or not—!”

“ _Enough!_ Master Tim is trying to sleep!”

The halls went silent after that.

 


End file.
